


Second Servings

by YellowBlue



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games), Red Dead Redemption II
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst, Bad coping mechanisms, Blood, Daddy Kink Aversion?, First Kiss, Implied/Referenced Dubious Consent, Implied/Referenced Underage Sex, M/M, Non-Consensual Knifeplay, Oral Fixation, Oral Sex, Prostitution, Rough Sex, Sexual Frustration, Violence, What's the opposite of Daddy Kink?, the tags make it sound worse than it is
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-01
Updated: 2019-03-27
Packaged: 2019-11-07 15:17:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 19,976
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17963018
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/YellowBlue/pseuds/YellowBlue
Summary: When Arthur meets a young man called John in Saint Denis he is sure that he's a lucky bastard, even if it's just for one night. Not only because John is the prettiest little thing that he had seen in quite a while, but also because $7 sounds like a reasonable price.By the end of the night Arthur realizes that he had been wrong from the very beginning and that the original is often the best choice.





	1. Sweet Starters

**Author's Note:**

> ~~~  
> English is not my first language and I apologize in advance for the mistakes that you will definitely find.  
> ~~~

The loud crash of thunder and the turmoil of black clouds in the sky announced a heavy storm and had the residents and visitors of Saint Denis run for safety. The storms in this area were usually short but intense, leaving everybody and everything windswept, drenched to the bone and in the worst case struck by lighting. Non of it sounded appealing to Arthur.

The outlaw had taken refuge in a small establishment that looked more like a small dingy opium den than a bar at the outskirts of Saint Denis. It would do for a couple of hours, the man decided, as he ordered a beer, leaning his elbows on the counter and trying to ignore the weary feeling in his chest.

The last weeks had been stressful. With an endless amount of errands to run his life had become too chaotic, complicated and crazy. It was one task after the other, one problem after the other and there were so many things that needed to be fixed that Arthur didn't even know where to start anymore. He was struggling hard to meet the demands and wishes of so many people, giving them no time to think, to breath or to unwind.

Arthur rolled his shoulders, trying to get rid of the tenseness under his skin as he took a sip from the lukewarm beer in his hand. The hot bath he had taken earlier had been relaxing, but it hadn't been enough to quench this jittery feeling and the restlessness in him that he had felt for weeks now. He was more than just frustrated and as scanned the tired face of the bar tender and the other patrons he realized with a sinking feeling that it was unlikely that he would find anything in that bar that could relieve him of this frustration.

A couple of whores were standing in a corner looking bored and jaded, both of them were rather unappealing to him. It was a slow night and the only two other customers where probably not the best company. One slumped in a corner, clearly drunk with a bottle of whiskey in his hand, the other standing at the other side of the bar with hunched shoulders and such a miserable look in his face that nobody dared to approach him.

"You look lonely, Mister," Arthur heard somebody say behind him in a soft, almost melodious voice. It took him a moment to realize that somebody had just spoken to him, he hadn't expected that anybody in the place would bother with small talk or a proper conversation.

A young man was standing there when he turned around and Arthur was struck speechless for a moment, just staring at the pretty dimpled smile, the straight white teeth and the soft rosy cheeks of the other. He fought the impulse to look at the bar tender to make sure that it was really him the boy had spoken to.

"You look lonely," The young man repeated. "Want me to join you? I can make this evening better for you, if you like." His green-brown eyes glowed softly in the dim light, making him look so very out of place in the dingy little bar room.

Arthur wasn't even fully aware that he had nodded, still too astonished by the appearance of the other late night patron of the bar and his charming looks. The young man took the place beside him and rubbed an elbow against his arm when he leaned on the bar counter. The gunslinger blinked slowly as he gathered his thoughts, looking over to the two whores who were still absorbed in their little chat and not even faintly interested in what was happening around them.

"What's your name, boy?" The older man eventually asked and took another sip from his beer, letting the bitter liquid roll over his tongue before swallowing.

"I'm John. And you are?" The young man was tilting his hips as he spoke, giving Arthur another smile before biting his bottom lip softly. Arthur felt a light tingle under his skin as he watched this enticing display. The urge to rub his fingers over the soft looking lips had him rub his suddenly sweaty hands on his pants.

He let his eyes roam over the the figure in front of him, ignoring the question the other had asked completely. John was everything a man could want for a night of sex without any boundaries: Soft blond hair, hazel eyes, lush lips and a nice little round bottom that just begged to be squeezed, but it was something else that made him really consider the offer.

"John, uh? How much?" Arthur finally asked. He wasn't an idiot, he knew that the little show the boy was putting on was just an appetizer and that these kind of services never came for free. The pleasant smile vanished from John's lips in an instant and was replaced by a serious look that made it clear that the young man was definitely not new to these kind of transactions.

"Five bucks if you want to come in my mouth or on me, seven if you want to come in my ass," He answered, all business-like and without a trace of the coy sweetness he had shown before.

The gunslinger tried to consider the offer, but he already knew he would say yes. A pretty boy like this was a rare thing to find, even in a bustling city as Saint Denis.

The sweet and seductive smile was back on John's face. Even without getting an answer from the other the young prostitute knew he had the older man on the hook. With a soft hand on his arm he guided the gunslinger towards the stairs that led to the second floor of the small building. Arthur followed the blond and they entered a small room that was bare of any furniture, apart from an old dresser and small bed with a rusty bed frame and an old, stained mattress. It was obvious that the room was only intended for one purpose.

Arthur took the Dollar bills out of his satchel and put them on the dresser next to the door. He was in the middle of unbuttoning his shirt when John – a stark naked John – dropped on his knees in front of him. It was more than a pretty sight and the blood that rushed to his neither regions left him light headed for a moment. Green-brown eyes looked up at him when young man opened his trouser and let his already hard cock spring free, causing the gunslinger to moan in relieve. The last weeks had left him so frustrated that the idea of a warm mouth or a tight ass was enough to get him rock hard in seconds and with a pretty young thing kneeling in front of him it was a miracle that he wasn't already dripping and ready to blow his load any minute.

"Oh Mister, you're so big!" Arthur managed not to roll his eyes when he heard the words. It was the typical blather that probably worked on most of his other customers.

Smooth palms and fingers started to rub over his shaft as a small red tongue licked the underside of his dick. Arthur could feel a low rumbling in his chest and he curled his hand into the blond soft locks of the prostitute when he felt the tongue swirl around the already slick and red head.

"A bit harder, John," Arthur requested. The name felt strangely right on his tongue and for a tiny moment he wondered what it would be like to have another John kneeling in front of him, slowly fondling his dick, his mouth gently closing around the tip, his eyes fluttering shut in concentration. The spike of arousal that went through him took him by surprise and left him confused and short of breath. His hand clenched in the blond hair and he could hear a displeased sound from the man on his knees in front of him. With a soft pad on the blond head he loosened his grip, feeling another stroke and another lick that was followed by a swirl of tongue.

Rub, lick, swirl, repeat.

The routine of the young prostitute was getting a bit boring. Maybe using his mouth was not his favorite thing to do, Arthur mused, or maybe John didn't waste any effort on it because he already knew that gunslinger was going to fuck him. The $7 on the dresser were a pretty clear statement. A small tap against the soft cheek had the blond man look up at him and he gestured towards the narrow bed that was standing against the wall. With a last rub-lick-swirl John got up and scrambled onto the bed, clearly relieved that he didn't have to kneel on the hard floor anymore.

“How do you want me, Mister?” John asked, wiggling his butt at him, the slick sheen that Arthur could see between the cheeks of his ass made it clear that the younger had definitely expected another customer that night.

“Hands and knees,” Arthur said, already positioning himself behind the smaller form and stroking his dick in anticipation.

Sliding into John's ass was surprisingly easy. Even with practically no preparation he felt the soft and already puffy ring yield under the pressure of his cock without any resistance. He sank into the body of the younger man in one long push, kneading the soft, round ass checks and letting his hands travel over the smooth skin of his back. The slick warmth that surrounded his length was pleasant enough, but the boy's ass felt ... well used, for the lack of another word. He remembered the phrase that Bill had once used as he described a whore he had fucked in one of the many nameless villages they had traveled through: It was like throwing a sausage in a hallway.

Arthur pulled slowly out of the body under him before letting his cock sink into the warm passage again. He bottomed out, grinding his hips against the pert ass and missing the tightness that he usually experienced with his partners.

“Oh, yes, oh, so deep!” The high, whiny voice had him stop for a moment before he continued with his slow measured thrusts, still hoping to find a rhythm that would make everything feel a bit better.

The shrill wailing and yelping got louder and if he wouldn't know better he would have been sure he was hurting the younger. It was distracting, to say the least. He tried to focus on the warm, slick feeling of the velvety walls surrounding his cock when he heard another high pitched moan that made him shudder in distaste.

Arthur started to fuck him harder, hoping that John would finally stop with that act he was putting on. He was close to screaming in frustration when the girly little cries and whimpers got even louder. This was turning into the worst lay he ever had.

The whimpered "You're too rough, Daddy!" had him almost lose his erection. It was ridiculous to be called Daddy by a fully grown man and in a situation like that. It was especially ridiculous to be called Daddy by a whore who probably had spread his legs for more men in a week than Arthur had the pleasure to sleep with in his whole life.

"Will you shut up!" he finally roared, clamping a hand over John's mouth. He was still pushing hard into the young man below him, trying to find the needed friction that would be enough to let him come.

When Arthur put his hand on the flat stomach of the blond prostitute to get a better leverage for his thrusts he could feel that John was only half hard. His rather small dick was dangling between his legs as Arthur pounded into him, but the gunslinger just didn't care anymore if the young man got off on what they were doing or not. The muffled, high pitched squeal that he heard when he pushed the boy down flat on the mattress and continued rutting into him had him grind his teeth in irritation and frustration. What was it with the boy that he felt the need to sound like a pig about to get slaughtered?

With an annoyed growl he pulled out of John. This just wouldn't work. Maybe he should have used the boy's mouth instead of his ass, at least he would have been quieter like that. Closing his eyes Arthur started to jerk himself off hard and with an urgency that was almost painful for him. It was still not enough! He needed something that would make it good enough for him to be able to reach his orgasm.

With furrowed brows and his eyes screwed shut he tried to recall what the blond man had looked on his knees. Dark brown eyes looking up at him, strong callused hands circling his length, a tongue licking slowly over the tip of his dick, a scratchy deep voice asking him how he wanted to fuck him. Only John's eyes were hazel green, his hands were that of a Victorian maiden and he definitely didn't have a scratchy voice and Jesus Christ, he knew he'd got it all wrong in his head but it was enough to make him reach his peak.

A relieved groan was ripped out of him and he came in thick white stripes over the ass and back of the young man below him. His orgasm felt more like a chore that needed to be done than something pleasant that he usually enjoyed immensely. It was unnecessary to mention that the whole ordeal had left him pretty unsatisfied and in a bad mood.

The bad mood remained when he got dressed again and left the bar, it got even worse when he got on his horse and rode back to their camp only to have his horse stumble over a goddamn rabbit and buck him off in a fit of panic.

With mud caking his jacket and pants he reached their camp site at Clemens Point, ignoring Bill who hollered the typical “Who's there?”. Most of his fellow gang members were already asleep and Arthur was glad that he would be able to wallow in his misery in peace.

With a scowl the gunslinger threw the rabbit that his horse had killed on the table in front of the provisions wagon, the hoof print was vividly visible on the body of the poor flattened animal. He ignored the cheery "Thank you, Mr. Morgan!" and went to sit next to the camp fire with a bottle of beer in his hand and a sour look on his face. The night couldn't get any worse, he decided, throwing a small pine cone into the crackling fire.

A loud moan made him turn his head, the rough and raspy voice was unmistakable. John was standing several feet away from him next to Pearson who nodded enthusiastically when the dark haired gunslinger took another bite of whatever it was that was in the small bowl in his hands. Knowing the other man and going by his reaction it was probably something disgustingly sweet and sticky.

It wasn't often that Pearson took the time to prepare something other than their usual stew based on whatever Arthur and Charles had been able to hunt. The general shortage of sugar or honey didn't give the former Navy cook the option to create any kind of desserts and if he had the chance to do so it was usually for Jack and not his sorry excuse of a father.

"This is good!" The brunet exclaimed with a delighted smile on his lips, followed by another moan that made Arthur's dick twitch with interest. When he saw John sucking on the spoon his mouth while Pearson blabbered something about the secret of coriander he couldn't help but remember the little fantasy that had put an end to his tryst with the blond prostitute and that he had tried to ignore until now.

Arthur wanted to slap himself. There was nothing he should find attractive about the other man! The greasy dark brown hair that framed a rather ordinary face was as much of a turn on as the flat ass and the scrawny chicken legs, not to mention the usual rubbish that came out of his mouth when he spoke. But at that very moment as he watched John he wanted nothing more than to pull him on his lap – he just knew that his ass would fit into his hands perfectly – and make him suck on something else than this stupid spoon.

With a defeated groan he closed his eyes. When had little Johnny Marston, the stray mutt Dutch had picked up so many years ago, become more than a skinny little boy with a snotty nose and hands that were too small and bony to even hold a gun properly? When had he become something that was apparently more arousing to him than the service of a professional whore?

Arthur could hear the distinctive bowlegged shuffle as the brunet joined the older man by the fire. A mumbled “Ev'nin' Arth'r” had him open his eyes again as John leaned against the crate behind him, still sucking on that spoon that had Arthur curse their camp cook to hell and back. The older outlaw nodded in reply and let his eyes linger on the face that was so different from the pretty blond minx he had met in Saint Denis.

"Hey Marston." The irritable moodiness from earlier was still coloring his voice. "Are you planning to call me Daddy anytime soon?" Arthur knew that it was a nonsensical question. He wasn't even sure why he had asked the question in the first place. It was more on a whim than anything else.

John eyebrows drew together in confusion, trying to understand the older man was asking. Arthur could actually see the different emotions flicker in his eyes as he contemplated the question: Incomprehension, frustration, annoyance. It was strangely endearing to see him like this.

"I'm planning to call you a cocksucking bastard. What is this about, Morgan?" John finally said, cradling the small bowl and taking another bite of the creamy dessert.

A relieved grin settled on Arthur's lips and he patted the younger man on his shoulder before taking another sip of his beer and watching the fire burn down. He realized he definitely preferred the blunt honesty spoken in a gravel-rough and almost bratty sounding tone over the lies, the fake moans and the sugary smiles he had heard and seen a couple of hours ago.

The low sound of cutlery scraping against the bottom of the bowl drew his attention back to the young man that was sitting next to him. The eyes of the older gunslinger followed the spoon as it disappeared between John's lips again and Arthur could actually see his tongue work around the eating utensil as the young outlaw sucked the rest of the sweet treat from the it. He had definitely fucked the wrong John. Arthur didn't even wonder anymore where this unbidden thought had come from.

The same impulsive recklessness that he had felt when he had followed the 'other John' to the cramped and dusty room above the bar was tingling under his skin again and the dark blond gunslinger knew he was on the verge of making another stupid decision that night when he threw the almost empty beer bottle into one of the bushes that surrounded the camp before kneeling in front of the younger. Dark, wide eyes stared at him in surprise when the older man took hold of the spoon and pulled it carefully out of John's mouth, letting the cutlery fall to the ground.

Before the brunet was able to realize what the older man intended to do Arthur's lips found that of the younger outlaw. It was a rough, wet kiss and Arthur licked into his mouth of the other without hesitation, tasting the sweetness of whatever Pearson had cooked up in his makeshift kitchen. The little breathy groan that he could hear made him push the dark haired man into the crate behind him. It felt like coming home. Like this was what he had been missing in the last weeks. John tongue met his tentatively before he seemed to realize what he was doing and pulled away.

A hiccup followed by a burp had both of them look up. Reverend Orville Swanson shuffled past them in a drunken stupor, singing one of his awful repetitive songs softly under his breath. He didn't seem to notice the too men or what they were doing as he stumbled over to his tent.

"What the hell, Arthur!" John managed quietly after Swanson had collapsed on a blanket just a couple of feet away from them. His lips were swollen and shining wetly in the dim light, a deep flush was coloring his cheeks and the huskiness in his voice made Arthur want to kiss him again.

Arthur tried to find the right words as he cupped the side of John's face and let his thump brush over the stubble rough cheek. It felt so different from the baby soft skin of the 'other John'.

“In Saint Denis, I met a whore. His name was also John.” A small kiss followed his words and he could see John's eyes flutter close as their lips met. “All I could think of was you when I fucked him.” He was leaning in to kiss John again when the was stopped by a strong arm on his chest. An unreadable look came over the face of the younger outlaw.

With a hissed “You can go and fuck yourself!” John pushed Arthur to the side and got to his feet, fists balled at his sides, torn between starting a fight and leaving. He opened his mouth, only to shut it again with an audible click of his teeth. Arthur didn't know what he could say to sooth the temper of the dark haired grunslinger, he didn't even know what had caused the sudden fury. All he could do was stare at the retreating form of the other as he stormed off towards the woods that surrounded their camp.

A loud cough behind him made him turn his head. Simon Pearson was standing a couple of feet away from him, half hidden behind a tent. He was fidgeting with an old dish towel, clearly trying to evade Arthur's eyes.

“Mr. Morgan, even though it's nothing new for me to see two man in a passionate embrace the boys in the Navy usually tried not to do it in front of the whole crew,” he eventually said. There was was no disdain or disgust in his voice, only a general awkwardness that probably came from having to witness what had just happened between the two men. The cook hesitated for a moment, trying to decide if he should say more.

“And if I may give you another advice: Most men don't take it lightly when they are compared to a whore,” He finally said, still wringing the dish towel in his hands nervously while leaving the other man to his thoughts.

Arthur could only stare at the spot where John had vanished into the woods while rubbing a finger over his lips that were still tingling from the kiss he had shared with the brunet.

He was an idiot.

 


	2. Cold Main Dish

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur is trying to fix things between him and John without knowing how. What he also doesn't know is that John's past is more difficult and twisted than he could have imagined and that things with the younger outlaw can get bloody when he's pushed too far.

On the next day after the kiss Arthur Morgan got up before noon, he got dressed, he shaved, he had a coffee and he had to realize the following thing: Kissing John Marston had felt amazingly good, but what had happened afterwards resulted in one hell of a fiasco. It hadn't been just a small mistake, he had messed up spectacularly!

 

It wasn't surprising that John had avoided him. What did come as a surprise was the dark, furious look on his face and the unspoken threat whenever Arthur dared to come closer. A growled “Piss off, Morgan.” was the only reply that John had been willing to give him when he had wished him a good morning.

 

Even when the dark blond cowboy had the chance to speak with him under four eyes all he did was standing in front of the younger, unable to find the right words. He didn't really know how he was supposed to explain the reason for the kiss and his intentions to him, but he was sure that "Hey Johnny, the whore I met yesterday was a really lousy lay, but I imagined you sucking my dick when I fucked him and now I really want to kiss you again" wasn't the best line.

 

This was one of the shortcomings of their lives as members of the van der Linde gang. They could shoot better than anybody else, they could kill without batting an eye, they could survive the worst situations, but when it came to private matters and relationships they were sometimes clueless like children. And a talk was probably the only thing that would help. Arthur knew that this problem was not something he could fix with slap on the back, a glass of whiskey and joke about the good old times. He just didn't know how to approach the younger, not when the brunet looked like he would kill him just for breathing too loudly.

 

The rest of the day was spend in awkward and observant silence. When he had grabbed something to eat Pearson had given him a bottle of aged and expensive looking rum and the advice to get drunk and find a suitable distraction, because sometimes things just didn't work out or as Pearson had put it: “Ships that pass in the night are sometimes not meant to sail together.” His advice definitely hadn't put Arthur in a better mood.

 

He had left the camp early the next morning when everybody else was still fast asleep, hoping to find a chance to clear his had and gather his thoughts and maybe find a solution for his problem. Thick clouds hang wet and heavy over the tree tops and hills announcing a dreary day. Arthur rode for quite a while up north, mostly on small paths and trails, meeting only a handful of other people that passed him in silence. The world seemed to be more empty and strangely quiet as if the fog was muffling the sounds and noises of every living creature. It was almost unnerving.

 

Arthur left the path after a while, riding deeper into the dense pine forest, still without a goal or purpose in mind. When he reached a clearing right next to a small lake he left his horse there. The air felt cool on his face and he took a deep breath as he looked around. Even though the problem with John was still lurking in the back of his mind he felt calmer already and less tense than he had the day before.

 

 

It was an unusually slow and uneventful morning which came to a sudden end when Arthur felt a chill slowly crawling up his spine. Something was wrong. The outlaw stopped and listened for a moment, unsheathing his hunting knife at the same time. This wasn't mountain lion territory and he would have heard a bear lumbering through the underbrush, yet he was sure that something was lurking in the shadow of the woods.

 

The snap of a twig was the only warning he got before a powerful kick to his back sent him to the ground. Arthur could feel his eyes water in pain when his knee hit a sharp stone as he crashed into the branches and foliage. Coughing and trying to gather his bearings he turned around, his hand already on his gun. He froze when he saw who it was that had assaulted him.

 

John was standing there, wetness clinging to the disheveled hair, his eyes dark as thunderclouds, lips drawn back in grin that looked more like an angry snarl. He looked like a feral thing, wilder than anything else that could probably be found in these woods, and Arthur could only stare.

 

Another punch had him flat on his back, his jaw throbbing painfully and his ears ringing. He blinked up at the dark haired man that was standing above him now and his gaze caught the glint of a blade before the the knife came to rest firmly against his face. It was his own hunting knife, he realized with a start. He must have dropped it when the younger had send him flying.

 

"You wanted to talk, so let's talk." John said, a fire blazing in his dark eyes.

 

A boot on his chest pushed Arthur back into the ground before John straddled his hips, his thin but muscular legs pressing tight into his sides. The sudden weight on his stomach was making it harder for him to breath. When he opened his mouth to reply he could feel the blade press hard into the skin of his neck.

 

"I will do the talking, you the listening," the brunet growled out, making it clear that whatever will happen would happen on his terms. Arthur didn't answer. He didn't understand what was going on, but he was sure that he didn't end up with a blade to his throat just because of a kiss.

 

"When I was twelve,” John began, his eyes never leaving Arthur's as he let the knife slice narrowly under his jaw before letting it trail to his collarbone, “the owner of a small store tried to lure me into the back room with a couple of Dollar bills and a piece of chocolate.” The lazy trickle of blood that ran down his neck followed his words and made Arthur's skin itch uncomfortably, but the older man didn't dare to wipe it away.

 

"When I refused he went to his friends and accused me of trying to steal from his shop. They planned to hang me for something I didn't do." There was a raw and harsh quality to John's voice that reminded Arthur of a bite of a wolf, ripping into his flesh and letting him bleed dry. It was terrifying and fascinating at the same time. "They wanted to hang me for refusing to get fucked by that pig." John was spitting out the last words, his teeth bared in a silent snarl.

 

Arthur could only stare at the younger. He hadn't known the full story behind the attempted execution of the boy, he had never bothered to ask. But what he remembered vividly was the fear, the hatred and the hopelessness in John's eyes, shortly before Hosea had shot the man who had put a noose around the frail and grimy neck of the child and who had loudly announced that he was looking forward to seeing the filthy little thief swing.

 

The older man could hear the blade rip into the fabric of his shirt as John cut through the material carelessly and without any finesse and Arthur could feel the cool, moist air hit his skin. His muscles felt tense, trembling slightly with the dizzy adrenaline rush he was feeling, while his mind kept screaming at him to get away, to run or to fight, do anything instead of just lying there.

 

"When I was fourteen there was this man in our gang. Tall, pockmarks all over his face, had a strange accent, don't know if you remember him." Satisfied with his handiwork John resumed to speak. His dark eyes were still boring into the blue ones of the older man. It was like he wanted to see every reaction of his fellow outlaw to his words.

 

Arthur blinked rapidly, torn between not wanting to hear more of the atrocious secrets the younger outlaw was revealing about himself and his life and needing to understand what caused John to react so violently.

 

"He said that I didn't make enough money." The brunet continued, his voice tight with emotions. Arthur could see John's hands trembled slightly, nicking the skin when he sliced off another button, causing another patch of bright red to bloom under the white material of his cotton shirt.

 

"He said that I had to find another way to pay for food and lodgings." A pause and another small cut, this time right under his collarbone and Arthur couldn't suppress the flinch as he felt the ice cold sting of the metal so close to the bone and the warm trickle of blood. "He made me pay, because nothing in this world is for free." There was pure loathing in the dark eyes of the younger outlaw, as if the mere memory of what had happened was enough to make him feel the presence of the other man again.

 

"I slit his throat 2 months later,” John finished with a sense of calmness that felt sharper than the blade that was slowly cutting him open.

 

He remembered the guy and Arthur knew he would have killed him too if he had known what that son of a bitch had done. They had found him in a pool of blood not far away from the camp, assuming it had been a rivaling gang or a thief. Nobody had missed that bastard.

 

"When I was fifteen I ran into a guy behind the saloon. He was nice, shared his whiskey with me. I kissed him.” John averted his eyes for the first time when he spoke. It was like what had happened was too shameful for him, even after all those years.

 

Arthur hadn't seen much of John at that age. It was the time when he and Mary had been sweethearts and when he had thought that their love could conquer the world and beat all odds. He had been such a fool then. He still was. A feeling of rueful melancholy tugged at his heart and for the very first time he wasn't entirely sure if it was caused by losing the love he and Mary Gillis had shared alone.

 

Arthur only realized at that moment that he had put his hand on the thigh of the younger man. The warmth he could feel under his palm was such a stark contrast to the cold, wet air that hit his exposed skin. He was surprised that John had allowed the touch.

 

The dark brown eyes found his again when the young outlaw continued to speak: “He kissed me back. Half an hour later I was blind drunk and on my knees, sucking his cock." The blade cut into an old scar on his chest while John spoke. Arthur could barely feel it. He felt strangely detached from the fact that he was nothing more than canvas for John's hate and rage and humiliation and anguish that seemed to have become too much to stay bottled up inside him any longer. It felt like everything was nothing more than a twisted, terrible dream.

 

"He was calling me a good little whore as he fucked my throat. Said that he would pay me extra if he could come in my mouth." Arthur couldn't help it when his gaze flickered to John's mouth as he spoke. The desire to touch and taste those lips and to explore the wet and warm cavern was the reason – the mistake, his mind reminded him – that led to this mess and yet he just couldn't find it in him to regret kissing John.

 

Hazel eyes, a sweet, sultry smile and soft, blond hair flashed through his mind and he wondered if he wasn't the same kind of bastard that didn't care who they were using for their pleasure. Not for a moment had he considered the possibility that John from Saint Denis was something more than a whore who was trying to make some money.

 

The older gunslinger was brought back from his thoughts when he felt a stinging and throbbing pain. The sickening feeling was twisting viciously at his insides when the younger gunslinger touched the cut he had just made. He could feel nausea enveloping his guts when his saw his own blood, dark and slick, on John's fingers. The brunet wiped his fingers on Arthur's shirt before he let the tip of the blade scratch over the older man's lips and cheek, leaving a trail or red in its wake.

 

"After he came in my mouth I cut off his balls before killing him." The dark blond gunslinger caught a flash of teeth as the younger man spoke and he was again reminded of a wild beast that was enjoying the terror in the face of its prey as it slowly sank its claws deeper an deeper.

 

The knife was suddenly pressed hard into the skin right under his eye and Arthur could feel a small trickle of blood running down his cheek and into his hairline. The knowledge of having a sharp blade so close to one of his most sensitive parts of his body made his fingers that were still lying on top John's thigh twitch against his will.

 

"When I was seventeen Dutch introduced to a friend of his. The man really had a way with words, really charming and all, telling me what a special and precious boy I was." Arthur was barely listen to what the brunet was saying, too focused on the sharp metal that was threatening to take away the sight of his eye forever. He breathed a sigh of relief when John took away the knife. The words he had spoken just seconds before registered with him only now.

 

"I guess I was a bit of an idiot for listening to Trelawny." His brain came to a full stop with the bomb that John had just dropped.

 

“Josiah?” He croaked and his voice sounded like he hadn't spoken in days. John only nodded. The cold steel was resting against Arthur's neck again. Not cutting him this time, only resting right above his pulse.

 

"I slept with him. The next morning a found a couple of bills and a note telling me that he was on his way back to his wife." John's words ended again with a snarl and the older man was trying to process what he had just heard.

 

Arthur had never seen the two men speak with each other. Now he knew why. Trelawny could be a charming and enticing bastard, he knew that first hand. He had had seen the man butter up men and women alike, making them do whatever he wanted with smile and a flick of his hand. But John and Josiah? It was one of the things one could never imagine until they happened.

 

With an expert flick of his wrist John left another red and stinging line along his throat before the knife came to rest right above the older man's heart. Arthur could feel the tip sinking into his flesh, not deep, but enough to have blood pool around the sharp metal. He was keenly aware of the warm blood on his skin and the cold dampness of the forest floor beneath him that was slowly seeping into his clothes and for a moment he wondered what he must look like to John.

 

The next words that the dark haired outlaw spoke were nothing but a hiss: “What kind of pervert are you, Morgan? Would you pay me too if I would let you fuck me?" Arthur's eyes widened as he finally understood. What John was really asking was if he had a reason to kill Arthur too.

 

The mocking challenge that was hiding behind John's words was irritating the dark blond cowboy more than the question itself. Instead of being scared he found that he was actually mad at the younger for making him into one of the demons from his past he needed to fight. Did John really think that Arthur was nothing more than that? That he would use his partner for his pleasure without qualms and without any care if they were willing or not? Did he think that this had been Arthur's intention when he kissed him?

 

He desperately tried stay calm and to deal with this in a reasonable way, but the anger he was feeling was slowly getting the better of him. When had Arthur given John any reason not to trust him? When had he ever demanded something that the younger was not willing to give voluntarily? His thoughts and emotions were whirling together in a chaotic turmoil. He needed to focus, he needed to stay level headed!

 

In the end his mouth was faster than his brain.

 

"Depends on the price." Arthur almost bit his tongue when he realized what had just come out of his mouth. The flicker of rage he could see in the younger man's eyes and the acidy bubbling feeling in his stomach had him hold his breath. It felt like his skin was suddenly too tight for him. He was playing with his own life.

 

Arthur could see the muscles in John's jaw work as he was trying hard not to grind his teeth, before he replied: "Two-hundred Dollar. No gold, no trinkets or other shit." He had the same guarded look in his eyes that Arthur had seen the night he had kissed him.

 

"What?” The older man asked with with an disbelieving laugh. He could get a whole harem for that price. He could probably buy a person on one of Saint Denis' slave markets with that money.

 

"I need a new rifle," John said, as if this explained everything, as if this justified the situation he brought upon both of them.

 

For a second Arthur wondered when they had ventured so deep into the territory of absurdity that they still continued to have this conversion even though it was far from normal. He wanted to put a stop to this madness. He was close to asking – begging! – the dark haired gunslinger to forget about everything that had happened, to go back to what they were before the kiss, but a slow, almost apathetic blink of John's eyes made the older man pause.

 

The brunet was bluffing, he realized with a start. He had seen that look too many times before when they had played poker together and when John had nothing but useless cards in his hands. The whole thing was nothing but act to get the older man to fold. He was challenging Arthur to a game that both of them didn't want to play and he had enough of it!

 

"Deal." His voice sounded a lot more calmer than he felt and Arthur almost expected the sensation of cold steel piercing through his skin and muscles when he spoke, but the pain never came. John was just staring at him, the knife in his hand seemingly forgotten.

 

The silence that followed this single word was deafening. John looked stunned and was absolutely dumbfounded, shocked by what the older man had just agreed to. Arthur had been right, it had been a bluff and now John realized that the stakes were just too high for him.

 

Without hesitating any longer Arthur grabbed the knife and wrenched it out of the other man's grip. A hard shove against his chest send the young outlaw sprawling backwards onto the ground.

 

Both men were staring at it each other, trying to foresee what the other would do next. It was Arthur that got up first, his body language making it clear that he wasn't willing to start a real fight with the younger. He sheathed his knife before he whistled for his horse. The mare appeared between the tree, trotting slowly towards him, reluctant to leave her grazing spot.

 

"Meet you at your tent tonight." Arthur said as he brushed the leaves and small twigs off his clothes and wiped away the blood on his cheek. He was still amazed how collected his voice sounded, because inside he was feeling anything else but calm. With cold, slightly trembling fingers he tried to fix his shirt while walking towards his horse, ignoring the stinging pain when his shirt and jacked rubbed over the cuts on his chest.

 

The sound of a gun being cocked didn't make him stop in his stride. He knew that if John really wanted to shoot him he would already be dead, or at least this was what he was hoping. The boy was fast with a gun, especially when he was angry. When Arthur got on his horse he could still feel the burning gaze of the brunet on his skin and he wondered, really wondered, if he would survive this mess that he and John had just created.

 

“I'm not a good man, Marston. You should know that.” He didn't look at the younger man when he spoke, he just couldn't. He knew he would lose his nerves completely when he would see the look of betrayal and disgust that he was sure he would find in the eyes of the other. Without waiting for an answer he left, even though it felt more like he was running away from something.

 

Arthur rode hard until he heard his horse's breathing growing more and more labored. His instinct to get away from everything was still overruling his common sense. It took ten more minutes before he could feel the rush of the adrenaline ebb away, leaving him with a jittery exhaustion and an anxious tightness in his chest that he didn't know how to deal with.

 

The experience had left him shaken. The cuts on his skin were stinging badly now, even though most of the cuts were pretty shallow. Taking a deep breath and pressing his palms hard to his eyes he tried to get rid of the overwhelming feelings that were almost choking him.

 

He had just bought sexual favors from John Marston. For the price of a new rifle. While John had made him bleed with own knife. It sounded absolutely wrong in his head! It was absolutely wrong! He swallowed the thick lump in his throat, raking a hand through his hair.

 

Arthur knew he needed some kind of miracle or at least a very good idea how to fix this disastrous wreck his and John's relationship had become.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Arthur will fix this mess, I promise. 
> 
> I actually like Trelawny a lot and I'm so close to writing something about the night that he and John had shared (because John got it all wrong!!), even though nobody will read it. The John Marston/Josiah Trelawny pairing is not a rare ship, it's a rare dinghy.


	3. Savory Accompaniment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur knows that a solution for a problem can sometimes come at a very high price. He also knows that he has to handle the consequences of his decisions and actions on his own, even if neither he nor John are happy with it.

It turned out being mauled by a panther wasn't the best excuse Arthur could have come up with when Dutch asked him where he got the scratches at cuts from. His torn shirt, the red lines across his neck and chest and the red-brown smears of dried blood on his skin were a tell tail sign that something had gone awfully wrong and it wasn't really surprising that the others at camp started to ask questions as soon as they saw him. Without anything at hand that he could use to clean and bandage the cuts that John had left on his body the only thing he had been able to do was wipe off most of the blood before riding back to camp. He had hoped that he could somehow get at least past Hosea and Dutch without having to answer too many questions, but the leader of the gang had stopped him just before he had been able to reach his tent.

 

“A panther?” The skeptical tone in Dutch's voice made Arthur cringe internally. His wounds looked nothing like the deep gashes and marks that an attack from a big cat like a panther would leave behind. He cursed himself for not coming up with a better story.

 

“It was a small one. Jumped me, when I was picking some herbs,” he continued his tail, trying hard not to look into Dutch's eyes. It felt ridiculous that he felt like he needed to lie to the older man, but there really was no alternative. He wasn't willing to tell him what had happened between John and him. This was between them and it would stay between them.

 

“And the gun you're carrying was not working?” Dutch gestured towards his holster as he spoke and Arthur could have sworn he saw the brown mustache twitch with a suppressed grin. The dark blond gunslinger felt like an idiot. This was one of the many talents Dutch had. He could make little boys feel like tough and strong men and grown up men feel like little boys that just got caught with their hands in a candy jar.

 

Arthur coughed and studied his mud-caked boots with great interest before answering: “I was too slow.” Even if it was just a hypothetical, unknown and unnamed panther it was still embarrassing to admit towards his mentor and leader of his gang that he had been too slow to prevent an attack that actually never happened.

 

“Too slow?” The older man echoed his words, a contemplative look on his face that was as fake as the golden pocket watch he wore. Arthur was glad that Dutch had obviously given up on getting a proper answer out of him, nevertheless, it was still humiliating. He turned to leave when he saw the mustache twitch again.

 

“Arthur, one more question.” Dutch's voice called after him and this time he didn't even try to hide is amusement. “That panther, did it carry a knife?”

 

Arthur didn't answer. He didn't even look back as he walked to his tent and busied himself with finding a new shirt and something that he could use to patch up his wounds. He thought about leaving the camp again, maybe doing a bit of hunting, just to to escape the looks and the potential questions from his fellow gang members. If he was honest with himself, it wasn't even the prospect of having to answer awkward questions that made him want to leave the camp site, in reality it was more about not having a solution for a problem that shouldn't exist in the first place and about not being willing to face John again without being able to make things right again.

 

It all felt so very wrong! The urge to run away and avoid his problems had never been an option for him until now and it made Arthur more and more annoyed with himself. This cowardliness was something he was not willing to accept. He was not a man that just ran away. Arthur Morgan did not ignore is problems, he solved them, either with a bullet or with other methods. Or this was what he was telling himself when he counted the dollar bills he was carrying with him before putting them back into his satchel. He rode to Rhodes on the very same evening to buy a brand new rifle.

 

It was a beautiful piece of craftsmanship, the polished metal of the barrel was glinting in the setting sun, the wood of the gunstock was flawless and it had an excellent grip. And yet a small voice inside Arthur had urged him to hide it from view from the very first moment he had touched the weapon. The rifle was like a symbol a shameful secret he didn't want to share with anybody else. This weapon was a bargaining chip for something that he desperately wanted, but refused to have. With $190 less in his pocket and a heavy knot in his stomach he left the gunsmith's shop, stored the rifle on his horse and rode back to Clemens Point.

 

John was still nowhere in sight when he arrived at their current hide out. The only thing he could do was wait, Arthur decided as he sat down next to the camp fire, the new rifle by his side.

 

It took several more days before Arthur saw his brother in arms again. John had returned to camp after two days of absence, looking wet, hungry and so thoroughly pissed off that nobody had dared to ask him where he had been the last days. Not that the older man had the chance to ask him anything. John was avoiding him again, but Arthur was a patient man. Sooner or later they would need to speak or at least interact with each other. The only question was how many nights more he would be forced to sit around and hope that the brunet would come to the same conclusion.

 

The days and nights he had spent waiting for the younger had given Arthur a lot of time to think. He wasn't sure anymore if he would be able to rebuild what he and John had successfully ruined with words spoken in the heat of the moment and their reckless behavior. The trust they had in each other and the knowledge that they could rely on one another no matter what was maybe not fully gone, but it was damaged. It all felt hollowed out, brittle and fractured.

 

On the evening of the third day of waiting Arthur was slowly growing restless. Out of pure boredom he had started to clean the new rifle that actually didn't need another polish or layer of gunoil. It was more about giving his hands something to do than doing something useful. He had already filled a couple of pages of his journal with scribbles and sketches and staying at camp all day was not providing him with a lot of inspiration or ideas.

 

When Hosea and Reverend Swanson joined him by the fire he wiped his hands on an old rag before wrapping the rifle into an oilcloth. The two other man were pleasant company, both of them too busy with their own problems and stories to bother much with Arthur. They were soon joined by some of the others and the typical banter and conversation, the familiar voices and noises were enough to make him relax for what felt like the first time in ages.

 

The warmth of the fire and the low crackling of the burning logs was lulling him into a near doze. Hosea's voice washed over him as the older man told one of his tales from the past that was really just a glorified and blurred version of what had really happened, a reminiscence focusing on the irrelevant details and leaving out the grim facts that were an inevitable and apparent part of their lives as criminals and outlaws. It still sounded nice, decided Arthur, as he closed his eyes and started to slowly drift off into a light sleep with Hosea's voice painting pictures of golden signet rings and old weathered mansions inside his mind.

 

He woke again with a start. The feeling of something watching him from the darkness of the night dragged him out of this cocoon of warm and mellow sleepiness. The dark blond cowboy didn't know how long he had been asleep, but the campfire was already burning low and nobody apart from Arthur himself was sitting around it anymore. With bleary eyes he blinked up towards the pale half moon that was dimmed by misty clouds and provided little light before scanning the trees and bushes at the edges of the campsite. It took him a moment to find the tall figure that was standing there, half hidden behind a tent, watching the older man attentively. It was John, his dark eyes and most of his face obscured by the shadows of the night.

 

Arthur was again reminded of the wild and untamed creature that he had seen in the forest several days ago and had been so keen on clawing him open and making him bleed. There was something about the other man that he had never fully understood, something primal and instinctual that always fascinated him whenever he could see a flicker of it in the dark pools of his eyes.

 

And like with every half-wild and barely domesticated beast one had to be patient and wait until it decided to come closer to the human by the fire. And so Arthur waited. From time to time he was looking back at John who just stood there, unmoving and silent, like a wolf waiting at the edge of the shadows, silently watching, stalking its prey. He almost expected a low growl and a flash of teeth and he silently prayed that their next encounter would be less bloody than the last.

 

The first night after what had happened between them he had barely slept. Feverish dreams of a sharp blade sliding between his rips and separating the flesh from his bones, of hands holding him down and suffocating him and of bared teeth and a tongue lapping hungrily at his open wounds had kept him awake. The aftermath of this day had left the dark blond gunslinger shaken and more than just confused. Not only had he allowed the other man to hold a knife to his neck he had sat back and let it all happen. He still couldn't understand why, but he knew for sure that John had left his mark on him and it hurt more than the cuts that would be gone in a couple of weeks.

 

The almost silent shuffle of boots on wet grass signaled him that the younger outlaw had finally decided to join Arthur by the fire. John looked tense, not taking his eyes of the older man when he sat down, still unwilling to utter even one single word. It seemed like Arthur's patience would need to last a bit longer. Sighing softly the older man took an old branch and tried to rekindle the flames of the camp fire. The cold night air was slowly crawling under the fabric of his jacked and pants and made him shiver slightly. For a while the two men were just sitting in front of the low fire that was crackling and hissing quietly, both of them waiting for the other to speak first.

 

Another soft sigh from Arthur had John look up sharply. It was enough, he decided, he was tired of waiting and biding his time, he had already spend too many hours sitting, thinking and regretting the things that had happened to stay silent any longer.

 

"I will not do this." John interrupted him before he could even utter one single word. He sounded like the words had been on his lips for days now, which was probably the case.

 

"And I didn't expect you to,” Arthur replied without hesitation, earning a surprised look from the dark haired man. It felt like a big relieve to be able to say the words that had been echoing inside his head over and over again and to put things right again. He had been waiting for this chance for days now, but even though he was glad that he was finally able to speak what was on his mind it somehow didn't fully ease the tightness in his chest that he had felt since the morning in the woods when John had revealed things about his past that still made his stomach turn. It felt like he was slamming a door shut without being sure what was really on the other side.

 

There finality of his decision and words made a tiny part in him wonder about what the result would have looked like if things were just a little bit different. But there was not a lot he could do now, was there? Except maybe for hoping that this would allow both of them a fresh start. He could feel John's eyes on him when he unwrapped the weapon he had bought a couple of days ago.

 

"Here's your rifle." Without further ado he pressed the new rifle into John's hand who took it almost on reflex, like he hadn't yet realized what exactly it was that the older man had just given him. He was just staring at the the new firearm, his dark eyes fixed on the metal that was glittering in the flight of the campfire. When the dark blond cowboy didn't receive a reply he got up from the small chair he was sitting on and turned to leave just to be stopped by a hand on his wrist.

 

"Keep it. I don't want to owe you anything.” John's harsh words barely registered with the other. The older gunslinger looked down at the hand that was wrapped around his wrist. The fingers were ice cold and Arthur wondered how many hours the younger had spent stalking the outer skirts of the camp, watching and waiting for a chance to catch him alone.

 

"You don't owe me, John. Take it, it's a gift, no strings attached." Arthur reassured him, apparently without any success. John looked still tense, almost anxious as he held the rifle in his hands. He should have known that the younger would make it complicated. He tried to smile at the the other man, but it felt more like the corners of his mouth were twisting upwards in a grimace.

 

"What do you want from me, Morgan?" The frustration and exasperation that he must have felt during the past days was so strong and vivid in John's voice that Arthur stopped short and really looked at the young man. He couldn't remember having seen John in such a state of nervous uneasiness before.

 

The brunet was still expecting to be told what he was supposed to do in return. Getting something without needing to pay for it was obviously not a concept he was familiar with. Arthur didn't blame him. Life had taught them this lesson over and over again. If they couldn't steal it the things they needed often came at a high price. And yet, he felt somehow betrayed. They were still brothers and even if he always thought that this phrase was just too exaggerative, they were both still sons of Dutch van der Linde. Trust, faith and honor should mean something to both of them and John should know that he would do everything in his power to prevent that any kind of harm would come to the younger. He should know that he could trust the older man with his life and his soul.

 

"What I want from you is that you don't assume I'm the same kind of man that took advantage of you when you were nothing but a child!" Arthur knew he sounded angrier than he had the right to be. He always had a problem with controlling his anger, especially when he felt too powerless to change something that was impossible for him to accept.

 

The dark haired gunslinger had the same look on his face that he had seen in the several days ago, shortly before he hat felt the cold sting of a blade against his skin. His dark brown eyes were burning with rage and something that Arthur could only identify as dread. The almost irrational feeling of disappointment, of broken trust and betrayal made his guts clench painfully and the older man fought hard to keep the anger in check that he could feel bubbling up inside him.

 

"You said I ... You bought me!" John's hissed the whispered words that were full of outrage and irritation, trying not to alert anybody at camp that might still be awake at the late hour.

 

"I didn't buy you. I called your bullshit," Arthur stage-whispered back. He couldn't keep the angry growl out of his voice anymore. " You tried to play me, you lost. It was a stupid and childish thing to do, by the way." He knew just too well that this was only half of the truth, John hadn't been the only idiot. He had been stupid enough to not only put up with his silly game, but to accept a foolish and ridiculous proposal that John had never intended to make. "I don't know why you want to make me into some kind of rapist or monster and I don't care." This wasn't really true, he did care, he cared a lot. "It's not going to happen. Whatever you came up with in that little half brain of yours, it's not going to happen." This time it was Arthur who interrupted the brunet when he opened his mouth: "And as said before, I don't expect you to go through with any of it. Never did, never will. Just take the rifle and shoot something, Marston. I'm done here."

 

That was it then. He had said what he had wanted to say and he knew he should feel better now, but he felt more restless and more annoyed with himself than ever before. At least he had been able to put John at ease that nothing that he didn't want to was going to happen and that he didn't have any reason to think that Arthur would force him into something.

 

Dark brown eyes stared at him like he was trying to understand why Arthur acted the way he did, all too familiar with the concept of owing people, with being used and coerced into things he didn't really want to do by both men and women that had any kind of power over him. Arthur desperately wanted to put a hand on his shoulder and reassure him that everything was alright, but he had the feeling that this small gesture of comfort would already be too much.

 

The older man had nothing else to say. This time John didn't try to hold him back when he left the fire place. Maybe he should give Pearson's idea a go and just drown his problems in rum and find himself a something or someone that would distract him from the whole mess, at least for a while.

 

"Morgan!" John called after him. "Goddammit, Arthur!" He was close to shouting now, the angry urgency in his voice made the older man almost stop in his stride. Arthur didn't stop, though. He needed to leave this travesty that their friendship had become behind, even if it was just for one night. It was Arthur's turn to run and he planned to do exactly that.

 

With an annoyed huff he got on his horse. The mare was neighing nervously when John suddenly grabbed the reins before Arthur had even been able to reach for them. Neither he nor his horse had heard the man approach and Arthur wondered what else there was to say that the dark haired man felt the need to delay his departure like this.

 

"What do you want, John?" He felt tired. It was a bone deep fatigue that had nothing to do with the lack of sleep. Maybe it was because he had spent too many restless nights trying to find a solution could somehow save their the friendship and the feeling of comforting closeness that they had shared during the last years. Maybe it was because there was this tiny part in him that had still hoped for something that would make everything fine or at least acceptable again. Or maybe he had just pondered too much on that one kiss that had ruined so much. He didn't know anymore.

 

John was clenching the reins in his hand, it was obvious that he didn't think about letting them go, not before he had spoken what was on his mind. With wide eyes he looked at the older man before averting his gaze. The brunet looked almost desperate to say something, but finding himself unable to do so.

 

"I'm ... not good with words," He finally mumbled in a breathless rush and Arthur was sure that he would see a faint blush dusting his cheeks if there would have been more light.

 

"No, you're not." The older gunslinger agreed, shaking his had. He took the reins from John's hands and patted his horse affectionately, before leaving the camp. To keep this conversation running any longer was obviously as useless as the rifle that leaned against one of the crates by the fire, already forgotten by its new owner.

 

It was dark, sunrise still a couple of hours away and Arthur was looking forward to a quiet ride. The dark blond man wasn't in a hurry. As long has he would have some time to clear his head and to forget he didn't care where he was going. Maybe Valentine would do. The hotel there was nice enough, the whiskey was good and even though the whores were nothing special one of them would do for a couple of hours. He needed to feel something else than the memory of John's lips on his.

 

“Where're you going?” John shouted after him. He sounded anxious and so very much unlike the ruthless criminal that had threatened to kill him only a couple of days ago. When Arthur looked over his shoulder he saw the dark haired man still standing where he had left him only seconds ago, looking almost lost, like he was expecting that Arthur would leave forever. It reminded Arthur a bit of the boy that John once had been and he couldn't hide the smile that was tucking at his lips. This was probably all he would have of John from now on: A couple of useless memories.

 

“Valentine.” It was the only reply Arthur was willing to give. He planned to get very drunk, he was also really looking forward to the company of the nice and friendly inhabitants of the small settlement until one of them would inevitably start a fight and afterwards he would nurse his hangover, his cramping stomach and aching jaw and maybe, just maybe, he would puke on the shoes of the sheriff, if he felt like it. It was as good a plan as any. He ignored John's calls to stop and spurred his horse on. The journey to Valentine would take him a while and he was actually looking forward to the lonely ride with only his horse as company. Being away from their camp would also give both him and John some time to find a way to deal with the things that had happened in the last days. Not that he actually planned to think about or deal with any of it for next days.

 

Arthur hadn't even reached the edge of the forest that hid their camp from prying eyes when he could hear the sound of hoofs behind him. He closed his eyes in defeat and hoped against all odds that it wouldn't be the only person he really didn't want to see at that moment who was following him.

 

He knew he had run out of luck when he turned around. A couple of yards behind him he spotted John on top of Old Boy, jaw set and a hard and determined look on his face. Arthur didn't even bother to shout at him, he already knew that there was no reasoning with the younger man, not when he looked like not even Dutch and Hosea could stop him from going through with whatever he wanted to do.

 

With a deep sigh the older gunslinger prayed that he would be blessed with enough patience to make it through the next days, because it seemed like he would have John Marston as shadow for however long he planned to stay in Valentine.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not a lot of action in this chapter, sorry. I promise I will resolve this mess between Arthur and John in the next and final chapter.


	4. Spicy Desserts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur should have known that drowning his problems in alcohol and forgetting himself between the legs of a pretty girl will not work. He's on the verge of making things even worse when John decides to put an end to the whole mess.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The chapter wasn't supposed to get so long, it wasn't supposed to be so smutty, Arthur wasn't supposed to be such an idiot, but John was totally supposed to be a bossy and bratty little shit. Enjoy!

 

The sun was still low on the horizon, drenching everything in a warm orange glow, when Arthur arrived in Valentine. It promised to be a nice day, the prospect of warmer and dryer weather was lifting the spirits of the people around him and everybody seemed to be more happy and sociable, enthusiastically greeting their neighbors and well as strangers with a bright smile on their faces.

 

It was a mood that he just couldn't share, not with Marston right behind him and almost breathing down his neck. They hadn't spoken with each other during the ride to Valentine. Arthur had actually hoped that the brunet would give up at one point during the journey and ride back to their camp. He should have known better than to expect something like common sense from the stubborn man.

 

Arthur stopped in front of the saloon and hitched his horse to one of the posts. He answered the expectant glare that John was sending his way by giving him a dirty look before he entered the saloon, completely ignoring the other man that was following him close by and that always staying several feet behind him. John leaned against the newel of the big staircase and watched him in glowering silence. It was unnerving and it tested his patience more than the was willing to admit.

 

The saloon was almost empty except for the last late night patrons that had obviously forgotten the time and one or two sad and lonely drunks that would spend their living days on a bar chair until the very end. The bearded man who was tending the bar grabbed a glass and a bottle of whiskey even before Arthur had even opened his mouth to order something. It was probably not the first and definitely not the last time he had seen a man like Arthur with the same annoyed and defeated air around him coming into the bar in the early hours of the morning and wanting nothing more than to drown his sorrows.

 

With a small nod Arthur took the glass and drank the strong liquor. The rich smoky taste was spreading over his tongue and he fought a cough when he felt it burn down his throat before he felt the whiskey settle heavy and warm in his stomach, the low burn was already soothing his nerves. He waved the bartender over to order a second shot of whiskey.

 

“What's eating you up, Mister?” The man behind the counter asked reluctantly as he refilled the glass with more of the golden-brown liquid, not yet fully convinced that he really wanted to hear the story of another poor fellow who had messed up his life in one way or another.

 

“Made a wrong investment.” Arthur replied reluctantly before putting the shot glass to his lips. The burn of the whiskey in his throat felt already less intense, but he could feel his stomach rumble angrily, demanding something else than the strong booze and a couple of almonds that were free of charge of paying customers.

 

“The gentleman in the corner.” The bartender pointed at John while speaking. “You don't own him any money, do you?” He asked, giving Arthur a stern look. It was the kind of look that made it clear that he had pretty much seen everything already and wasn't in the mood to put up with more. "If things get ugly I will --”

 

“They won't. Already paid him.” Arthur interrupted the man, taking the shot glass that the bartender had just put in front of him. “He's just here for … hell, I don't know. Maybe he needs another rifle.” Even though he wasn't really drunk yet the alcohol was already loosening his tongue. Or maybe he had just stopped caring how much he told other people about what a sorry fool he was.

 

With a small nod the barkeep went back to polishing the beer and whiskey glasses, he was not even pretending to be interested in his story. "You want a drink, sir?" He addressed John, who was standing next to the staircase that lead to the upper floor. A moody glare was the only answer he got.

 

Arthur could feel the dark eyes watching him as he ordered another drink. He didn't know and wasn't willing to guess what John was after or waiting for and he sure as hell didn't plan to find out. This was not about John or them. His stay in Valentine was about him alone. He wanted to forget the whole mess and drown the memory in as much liquor as he could stomach. And yet something in those dark eyes made him nervous. It was like a thunder in the distance announcing a storm.

 

"Hello handsome, are you looking for some company?" A quiet female voice interrupted his train of thought. A young woman, almost still a girl, was standing at the end of the bar, looking at him with somber grey-blue eyes and sounding almost too shy for what Arthur new the girl was offering. She seemed to be the only one of the working girls that was already awake and willing to take any customers. The smile on her lips seemed slightly strained and the way she clasped her hands left the impression that this was all new to her.

 

Arthur took in the sight of the woman's low cut dress and her strawberry blond hair that was framing a round face with plump cheeks and a small red mouth. She was not a breathtaking beauty and there was nothing special about her that would have caught his attention on any other day, but there was something that made her just perfect. It was the way she didn't look, Arthur realized with a start when he saw his fellow outlaw glower at him from his place next to the staircase. The girl was so very much not like Marston that she seemed to be the ideal distraction. With a small nod he beckoned her closer.

 

Everything was so much easier with a woman like her. And why shouldn't he be interested in herand what she had to offer? It was an honest job as any other, Arthur reasoned as he looked her up and down. Somewhere in the back of his mind he knew that accepting the offer from a prostitute just to avoid John was more than just running away from his problems, but at that moment he couldn't find it in him to care and the girl seemed nice and eager enough to not let him dwell on his thoughts for too long. Her small red mouth formed a hesitant smile when she touched his arm.

 

“You are new to this, aren't you?” He asked her quietly, catching her eyes and leaning into her space. She even smelled nice. There was nothing of the usual smell of campfire, rotten leaves and gun oil on her that Arthur had come to associate with his life at camp.

 

“It's my second week, sir,” she replied in an equally quiet voice. The working girl was still not sure if Arthur was really interested in her services or if he was only looking for someone to talk to.

 

He liked her. She wasn't so brash and obtrusive as the usual girls were. The dark blond cowboy let his hands wander over her waist and rips, feeling the underside of her soft breasts rub against the back of his hand. A small gasp escaped her when Arthur pulled her towards him. She was so refreshingly innocent that he was almost sure he could teach her a thing or two about what to expect from a man like him.

 

"How much?" Arthur asked. “For an hour or two, I mean.” He didn't want anything else. Just somebody who would willingly spread their legs for him and who wouldn't ask too many questions if he moaned the wrong name.

 

“Why don't we discuss the formalities in my room?” The words sounded like she had rehearsed them one too many times, but Arthur didn't care at that moment. He only gave her a small nod and followed her up the stairs, his hand on her waist. For a second he could see John's dark eyes flashing in anger when he passed him. Maybe it was a good thing that he was here and that he had seen everything. The boy was an adult, he would need to learn to live with the fact that Arthur Morgan bedded whores from time to time and that it wasn't his job to mollycoddle and pamper him.

 

The door hadn't even fully closed behind them when Arthur was already shrugging off of his jacket along with his suspenders. “Are 10 bucks enough?” He asked her while putting the money on the small table next to the door. He didn't wait for her reply and pulled her again towards him, burying one hand in her pretty curls and inhaled her scent. The gunslinger blamed the his daring and a bit too carefree behavior on the alcohol, unwilling to admit that it had also a lot to do with the man that was waiting downstairs.

 

“Don't worry, I will ask for nothing you're not willing to do.” Arthur tried to keep his voice gentle has he opened the first buttons of her bodice and baring her breasts to his sight. She was definitely a good choice. His fingers stroked the soft skin and he let his thump circle around a slowly hardening nipple before he leaned down and started to kiss her neck, his stubble leaving a red trail on the pale skin. It had been a while since he had a woman in his arms and he enjoyed the softness and the smooth silky feeling of her skin under his fingertips. Her small hands were already opening his pants, eager to get to the main act or maybe just eager to see him leave again.

 

The sound of lout bang as the door bursting open made both of them jump. John was standing on the threshold, a hard and unforgiving look in his eyes.

 

With a surprised scream the girl quickly closed the buttons of her bodice and hid her cleavage from view. Her wide and scared eyes looked from John to Arthur who was just standing there, looking at the young outlaw in absolute astonishment. Whatever he had expected would happen when he had decided to ride to Valentine it wasn't this.

 

"Get out, lady!" John ordered, gesturing towards the exit. His harsh and rude tone made it obvious that he was done with being the patient onlooker. His eyes were fixed on Arthur, burning with fury and barely restrained rage. The older man could not remember when he had ever seen him like this.

 

"But he already paid me,” The young woman eventually stammered, her voice was trembling slightly. She was clearly afraid what the dark haired gunslinger would do to her if she didn't leave and what Arthur as her customer would do to her if she left. The annoyed look that John threw her way didn't ease her panic and discomfort.

 

John didn't even try to change the tone of his voice: "Yeah well, he paid me too and probably more than what you make in a month. Now get lost!" He shouted the last words, taking a step towards her and making her run from the room in a panic.

 

With a kick against the already the old and chipped wood John closed the door again and locked it with a flick of his wrist. He was standing in front of Arthur, his hands balled into fists and teeth clenched hard, looking livid and absolutely furious and the older man could feel his guts clench and his pulse quicken at the sight.

 

“What the hell, John?” The older gunslinger asked, trying to keep his anger in check. He should have know. He should have learned his lesson by now. This was John at his finest. Selfish and ignorant, always taking and never letting go, not even caring what other people wanted.

 

Without any warning John shoved him hard and Arthur stumbled a couple of steps backwards until the backsides of his knees connected with the wooden bed frame. The air got knocked out of him when his back connected with the mattress and John was on him a second later, straddling his hips and pinning him down to the bed by his shoulders. For a couple of seconds they just looked at each other, John's eyes still burning wildly, and Arthur almost expected the sharp glint of a blade in the younger man's hand. The whole situation reminded him too much of the morning in the woods and he wondered how much blood he would lose this time.

 

“I thought about it,” John began, his voice sounding tight and fierce. It was like he was trying to hold the words back and trying to force them out at the same time. "You made me think about it and I hated you for it!" It sounded more like a statement than an accusation and Arthur wondered distantly how long these thoughts had been brewing inside the younger man's head that they were bursting out of him and came tumbling down over both of them like a landslide.

 

John licked his lips nervously and the older man could see him fighting with the next words, still trying to get this turmoil of emotions under control that were plummeting through him. "The moment you said yes,” he spoke in a low voice, “I couldn't help but think about how you would fuck me. What it would feel like." It was almost like his own words were a revelation to himself and Arthur could only blink up at the younger man. His mind was reeling with what he had just heard from the man that was still straddling his waist.

 

A hand snaked between their bodies – John's hand, he realized with a start – and unbuttoned his trousers, finishing what the blond working girl had started earlier. Arthur's mouth felt suddenly bone dry. John couldn't be serious. He just couldn't.

 

He was still semi-hard from earlier and when a rough hand that felt so foreign and familiar at the same time wrapped itself around his dick it was like an electrical jolt went through him and he didn't know if he wanted to shove John off him and run or if he wanted to stay and satisfy this irrational curiosity in him that wanted to know how far the dark haired outlaw was willing to go. The decision was made for him when he tried to sit up, the hand on his chest made it impossible for him to move if he didn't plan to really fight John.

 

"I thought about you fucking me hard and fast, just pressing me up against a wall and taking what you want,” John continued in his raspy voice and Arthur could feel the brunet's legs tighten around his hips for a moment. It was enough to send another spike of arousal through him. The image of John clinging to him, legs wrapped around his waist and face pressed tight into his neck to muffle his helpless moans while he pounded into him had the blood in his body travel south so fast that he felt dizzy.

 

“Or maybe on my cot. Shoving me down on it and pushing your cock into me without even saying a word. Making sure everybody hears me moan your name and letting everybody know it's you who's fucking me.” It was Arthur who moaned when he heard John's words and felt his hand tighten on his dick. The angle was everything else than ideal, but it didn't matter to the older man, because this was John whispering utter filth into his ear, things that he hadn't even dared to imagine while having his hand on his dick. This was better than everything he could have ever bought with any money in this world.

 

"Maybe you would have me suck you off before you fuck me. Your hand in my hair, forcing your cock slowly down my throat." The knowing grin that followed his words had Arthur buck up into the hand that was still jerking him off. The thought alone had him writhe under the brunet and hearing these words coming out of the mouth that had ruled his dirtiest dreams was almost too much. He was still half convinced that this could simply not happening, yet the hot feeling of pleasure and lust that was burning low in his stomach made everything too real.

 

John leaned down again, his hand going slack around Arthur's hard cock as he took in the sight of the other man below him. There was something else in his eyes now, like he was waiting for something, watching him, a faint flush on his face and his pupils blown wide.

 

The older man had his hands clenched into the sheets, still refusing to touch the dark haired outlaw. He was still holding himself back, even though he wanted nothing more than to grab the hips of the younger man and grind himself against the small round ass. He couldn't. He wanted to, but he simply couldn't. Not with John almost shaking with emotions that threatened to overwhelm them both.

 

"I hated you, because I knew I wouldn't mind if you would do any of it." It sounded like it was a shameful secret and an immense relief at the same time for John to finally be able to speak out loud what was on his mind. Their lips were almost touching when John spoke, his breath gusting over his face and Arthur was keenly aware of the fact that he would only need to lean up to kiss him. “Goddammit, Morgan, I was actually hoping you would make me go through with the deal we've made and you fucking idiot had to play the charitable gentleman just to ride to Valentine to buy a another whore!” John was growling the last words, the hand on his chest tugging his shirt up and almost ripping through the buttons.

 

Arthur didn't know what to say. He didn't know if there was any kind of rule or protocol one could follow in this kind of situation. Hell, he didn't even know if John wanted him to say or do anything. It was like this – whatever this was – was completely out of his control. The only thing he could do was lie there and hope that this wasn't just a way for the dark haired outlaw to let off some steam.

 

Without waiting for any kind of reply John kissed him hard. This kiss was nothing more than a clash of teeth and a swipe of his tongue inside Arthur's mouth before he dropped to his knees between the older man's legs. Dark eyes and a coy little smile was all he saw before he felt a gust of warm breath on base of his dick. His own breath caught in his throat when he saw and felt the warm, wet mouth around his cock and a small pink tongue licking up the pearly fluid that had gathered around the tip.

 

John looked like everything he never dared to imagine. So tempting and sinful with his fingers and mouth wrapped around his length and Arthur didn't even remember that he should not want this as the younger man dragged his tongue along his shaft up to the tip before letting the tip of his dick rest on his bottom lip. The little tongue swirl that followed reminded him of the 'other John' on Saint Denis, yet it felt so much better that it had him moan low in his chest.

 

“You know, cocksucking is considered a crime against nature in Louisiana? They even have a law for that,” John mentioned almost casually, like he was discussing the latest headlines over a piece of toast. Arthur tried to make sense of the words he was hearing, but every thought was lost when he felt a John lick over the ridges of his cock head before he let the tip of his tongue dip into the tiny slit. The older man could feel his hips twitch when he felt another swirl of tongue around his crown.

 

“Hosea told me,” John mumbled against his dick and, Jesus Christ above, how was he even able to make small talk while Arthur was desperately trying to not lose the basic functions of his brain? He took a deep breath and looked at the young man that was kneeling between his legs. Dark eyes glittered mischievously as John licked another wet stripe up the underside of his cock.

 

Arthur tried to ask why Hosea had felt the need to discuss this topic with John, but his words came only out as an unintelligible moan when John closed his eyes as he took him deeper into his mouth while his tongue licked greedily along the underside of his dick. The older man could actually feel his toes curl in the boots he was still wearing.

 

“You're killing me, Marston,” he breathed as he felt the warm and wet suction around his dick increase and he knew he would have died a happy man then and there. Arthur rubbed his finger over the side of John's mouth where it was stretched wide around his dick before weaving his fingers into the dark and dirty locks of the younger man. The sight of John hollowing out his cheeks and just sucking him down was absolutely lewd and Arthur would have loved to just take his camera and capture this picture for himself and for everybody else who thought that John Marston didn't have any talents.

 

He pushed a bit deeper and the sudden tight clench of his throat when John started to cough was just too delicious. The words from earlier were still ringing in his mind and he wondered if the brunet would actually be able to take his hole length and if he would let him fuck his throat in long and deep strokes. This was definitely a fantasy he would need to explore another day.

 

A hand latching onto his wrist made him freeze. He released the hold he had on John's hair immediately, an apology already on the top of his tongue when he saw John lick the traces of Arthur's precum from his lips like it was the sweetest honey while opening his gun belt and pushing his pants further down his legs.

 

“Want to come in my mouth?” The dark haired man asked, voice rougher than ever, before pressing an open mouthed kiss to the head of his cock. Arthur was so very tempted to say yes. There was a raw sensuality about the way John looked at that moment. Lips red and shining with spit and precum, eyes wide and dark, want and lust so plainly visible in his eyes that Arthur wanted nothing more than to spread him out on the bed and touch and kiss every inch of his body.

 

The dark blond cowboy shook his head and gestured for John to get off the floor. For a couple of seconds he could only stare up at the wooden ceiling, his brain and limbs still not fully cooperating. He didn't even want to know where the other man had learned to use his mouth like that, even though he had an inkling feeling that it had a lot to do with one of the former members of Dutch's gang that John had killed himself.

 

The brunet straddled him again, wiping his mouth with the backside of his hand while looking at him, eager, hungry and restless and Arthur couldn't remember the last time somebody had wanted him that much. He could see the bulge in the pants of the younger man and he let his thumps grace over the outline of his dick, feeling the little tremors run through the brunet's body as he opened the buttons and let his length spring free. John had already lost his jacket together with his heat and gun belt and was fumbling with the buttons of his shirt, catching his already plump lower lip between his teeth in concentration. The little huffing noise that escaped him when one button was stuck and the wiggle of his hips made Arthur want to lick and bite the naked skin that was exposed to him.

 

“Get on the bed. Now,” he said, his voice nothing but a dark rumble in his throat. Arthur was almost proud of himself that he hadn't completely lost the ability form sentences.

 

John was off him in a blink of an eye, shedding the rest of his clothes and watching him do the same. Arthur stripped off his shirt and pants before joining the younger man who was already kneeling on the bed, naked and hard, looking at him with bright brown eyes, lying back and spreading his legs invitingly when Arthur let his hand stroke over his chest down to the slender hips before pushing him back onto the bed.

 

John looked up at him in surprise when he laid down on his side next to him and leaned in to kiss him, his tongue sliding between the half open lips of the younger man and tasting the last traces of tobacco and chewing gum he must have had earlier mixed together with the slightly bitter taste of himself. Finally. This was what he wanted. A nice, deep kiss, just Johns lips and tongue against his own. No Pearson or anybody else telling them that they should take this somewhere else, no misunderstandings or wrong expectations between them.

 

Arthur started off slow, his hands wandering over John's legs and waist, feeling warm skin and soft hair under his fingertips. He wanted to take his time with the younger man. This wasn't about him. This was about wanting to make John feel good. He kept his touch gentle as stroked over the chest and belly of the other man while kissing his neck. His own cock was pressed against John's thigh and hip, leaving a damp trails of drying spit and precum on his skin.

 

John was already moving his hips, anticipating the slide of Arthur's fingers along his hard length. The older man was just too happy to oblige and the brunet gave a low moan with the sensation of fingers stroking over his cock head and over his shaft. Arthur could feel him melt against him, gasping wetly against his chest when he circled the crown of John's dick with his fingers and squeezed lightly.

 

"Yeah, that's it, darling. Just enjoy the feeling,” The dark blond outlaw murmured against his ear as he repeated the movement, earning another moan from the younger. It was nice having John so pliant and relaxed next to him, even if he knew that this languid and slow pace would probably not last very long. The soft sighs and moans the other made with every teasing touch were tempting him to slow down even more. The light strokes and gentle caresses had John wiggle his hips impatiently and knew he had gone too far when John almost kicked him and ordered him to “go faster, harder, anything, dammit!”

 

Arthur complied by wrapping his hand around John's dick and started to jerk him off in a slow and steady rhythm, squeezing the shaft and watching a drop of precum land of John's flat stomach. He could feel his own neglected dick twitch in response. The younger man looked amazing like that and he couldn't take his eyes of him as he slowly worked him up to his orgasm.

 

A strong hand on his wrist suddenly stopped his movement. Arthur waited patiently until John had caught his breath, unsure what the younger man wanted, but more than willing to do whatever he could to ensure he had a good time with him. Dark eyes studied him for a moment before John spoke: “Let's do this properly. I want you to fuck me.”

 

Arthur swallowed around the sudden dryness in his throat and could only shake his head. He let his gaze travel over the body of the other and saw John's hips still rocking against a phantom touch that wasn't there anymore, his hard cock still dribbling steadily on his stomach, a red flush spreading over his neck and chest. Jesus, he looked like the most delicious treat that had ever been put in front of him. But he couldn't say yes. There were so many good reasons why he should refuse John's offer even if it was almost too late now.

 

“I want you to,” John insisted, squeezing Arthur's hand that was now resting on his thigh. “I want to come with you inside me.”

 

The older man cursed under his breath and closed his eyes for a moment. Was John even aware of what he was asking? He knew he wouldn't be able to hold himself back if he could touch John like he wanted to. The thought of being between John's legs, of feeling his cock engulfed by the warmth of his body made him thrust his hips against the thigh of the younger man before he could stop himself. He wanted to feel John like that. He really wanted to, but considering John's past with men and how he had reacted the last time Arthur had taken the initiative and kissed him made him reluctant to go one step further with the younger man.

 

“We really shouldn't,” he finally said without any conviction, taking in the sight of the dark haired man, pupils blown wide, his red lips pursed in a near pout and his legs spread invitingly. He looked ready and willing to be fucked and Arthur just knew that he would not be able to deny him if John asked him again.

 

Sharp teeth biting his jaw and a hand clenching his blond locks made him hiss in annoyance and look up into the dark brown eyes of the younger man. He should have known that 'asking' was not on John's agenda. John wanted, he demanded and he took. Another bite, this time on his neck, had him utter a curse. “Stop biting!” Arthur growled, turning his head away.

 

“Stop brooding!” John's reply was immediate. “Arthur, I know you want to and I'm asking you very politely to put your dick into me and fuck me.” The young gunslinger didn't sound polite, he sounded impatient and pushy.

 

With a grin that the older man could only describe as filthy the brunet guided Arthur's hand over his thighs and further between his legs until he could feel the small puckered entrance under both of their fingers. There was a challenge in the dark eyes that Arthur found hard to resist. The thought that it would only take one small push and he would be inside John's body was making him harder than ever before. It would be so easy, so satisfying to give into the temptation that the dark haired man presented to him.

 

“Just because I had a one or two men that weren't so nice to me doesn't mean I wouldn't enjoy it with you.” John's tone softened as he spoke. “Arthur, I want you. Just say yes.” Temptation was the downfall of men and Arthur was not exception to that rule. He could only nod before he pressed another kiss to John's smirking lips.

 

They needed some sort of lubricant and he considered it a stroke of luck that the blond girl – Arthur only realized now that he had never asked for her name – choose to keep her professional utensils close by . A small glass bottle with some sort of oil caught his eye and he scanned the half ripped off label before uncorking it and taking a sniff. It was exactly what he needed. He rubbed the slippery liquid over his fingers as he kneelt between John's legs and pressed them against the small opening, feeling it twitch in response. “If I hurt you, say stop and I will,” Arthur murmured against John's lips before pressing his index finger in, earning a breathy “hnn” from the younger. He massaged the tight rim with his fingertip before sliding his finger a bit deeper, searching for the small bundle of nerves that he knew would make everything feel even better for the dark haired man. He knew he had found it when John gave a startled twitch and moaned into the kiss they were sharing.

 

“You like it?” Arthur asked with a small smile on his lips. The knowledge that he was able to give him so much pleasure was enough to make a tingling warmth spread through his chest and lower body. John only nodded and leaned into another kiss, sucking and biting Arthur's bottom lip hard when the older man slid his finger in deep.

 

A second finger joined the first one, pressing into the soft tissue around the pleasurable spot inside John. He could feel teeth scrape over his neck, threatening him with another bite, when he evaded the bundle of nerves inside the younger man on purpose. The warning glare in the brunet's eyes turned into a blissed out look and Arthur felt the inner muscles quiver around his fingers when he rubbed the small bundles of nerves in a slow inward push, making John's hips arch off the bed.

 

“Just fuck me already,” John rasped, pushing back onto the fingers inside him, all greedy and eager and searching for more of that sensation that made stars explode in front of his eyes.

  
“Not yet. I'm a bit bigger than two fingers.” Arthur wanted to make sure that John was ready for him. The brunet couldn't suppress a wince when the older man twisted a third finger into him. The strained stretch of his hole around the three digits and the tight clench of his inner walls confirmed Arthur's suspicion that it had definitely been a while since John been taken by a man. He pushed in deep, making the younger man gasp and cry out when he slowly spread his fingers apart inside him with a wet squelching sound that was loud enough for both of them to hear.

 

“Fucking do it!” John ground out, sounding frustrated and high-strung, squirming against the hold that the older man had on his hip. He tried to grab Arthur's wrist only to have his hand batted away. With a rumbling growl the other man didn't even realized he was making he slid his fingers out of John, leaving the younger man winded and gasping for air.

 

The question if John was sure if he wanted to do this died in his throat when he heard the litany of “yes, yes, yes” followed by a string of colorful curses when Arthur lined his cock up with the small hole. He was slowly pressing in, feeling the ring of muscles give away to tight heat and he just couldn't take his eyes away from the face of the younger man under him, taking in every little detail and every reaction when John felt himself getting slowly opened up by Arthur's dick. His mouth dropped open in a silent groan when the dark blond gunslinger gave another small thrust of his hips, sliding deeper until he was fully seated inside the younger man.

 

Arthur was close to making a comment that it obviously only took a dick to make John Marston finally shut up, when the young outlaw wrapped his legs around his waist and canted his hips up. John reached for him and grabbed a handful of hair, making sure that Arthur's focus was on him alone.

 

"C'mon, let me feel it,” he groaned out, squeezing his inner muscles around the length inside him and forcing an almost pained groan out of the dark blond cowboy.

 

“You're really something else,” Arthur said with his voice all breathless and strained, half astonished and half exasperated by the demeanor of the young man below him. He took hold of the narrow hips and started a steady, but slow rhythm, feeling the pleasure spread through his body as he pulled out and sank slowly back into the tight little hole. “You feel so amazing. So perfect for me,” he murmured against the rough stubble jaw, kissing his way down John's neck. “ Want to come inside you. God, Johnny, please let me.” Arthur couldn't stop the words that came rushing out of him, too caught up in the feeling of pressure and heat around him.

 

John didn't reply, but the older man could hear him moan against his shoulder and clench hard around his dick, sending another wave of pleasure through him. Arthur bit is lips, worrying the already sore and plump flesh with his teeth to hold off a little bit longer. He wanted to see the younger man come first, he wanted to see him covered in his own come, shaking in his arms and moaning his name.

 

“For Christ's sake, do me harder, Morgan!” John ordered, the ragged sound he made as Arthur buried is length inside him again made the words almost lose their bite. Arthur couldn't prevent the unbelieving laugh that escaped him. John was probably not one for moaning sweetly and holding onto him with trembling arms, knowing John he would probably snarl and bite is way to orgasm and howl like the wild thing he was when he finally reached it.

 

If John wanted to play rough Arthur was willing to deliver. “Gonna make you scream,” he growled as he seized John's wrists and and pressed them into the bedding below before he took hold of his knees and spread his legs wide.

 

The mixture of surprise and delight on John's face turned into mindless pleasure when Arthur hit his sweet spot straight on, his legs suddenly falling apart and letting Arthur slide in deep. It felt like some depraved and obscene version of heaven being buried balls deep inside John Marston. He could feel John shake so hard under him and heard him utter a beautiful broken moan that it made him want to pound into him until he was a wrecked quivering mess. Arthur had known he wouldn't be able to to hold himself back, but he hadn't expected this kind of heady and powerful rush. The dark blond outlaw was too slow to prevent the loud shout that escaped John when he bottomed out again and there was this part in him that took too much delight in the sounds he could force out of the younger.

 

“Remember you asked for it, John,” Arthur growled out. With a leering grin he pushed the long legs towards John's shoulders, folding him almost in half as he started to fuck deep and hard into the younger man. A surprised sound was punched out of the brunet as he was jostled atop the mattress and could only grab on the bed sheet below them and onto Arthur's shoulder when he felt the dark blond gunslinger set a faster and more brutal pace, slamming into John and making him choke back a scream that was almost torn out of him when he felt Arthur's length slide into him and filling him so completely. He looked almost too overwhelmed by the feeling of being so thoroughly taken by the older man.

 

The feeling of tight heat and the inner muscles trembling and clenching around him made Arthur forget how to breath, how to think and how to do anything else than fuck. He didn't even feel it when the dark haired man clutched his shoulder hard, leaving dark fingershaped bruises on his skin, too caught up in the incredible feeling of the body under and around him.

 

"Still want more?” Arthur asked in a husky voice, pulling out slowly and feeling the rim of John's hole twitch and squeeze around the head of his dick as if it was trying to keep him inside. With a hard snap of his hip he sheathed himself inside the slippery heat again, gracing the John's sweet spot, making him arch off the bed and moan something that was a mix between a curse and Arthur's name. He repeated the move, earning another garbled moan from the younger.

 

“Don't stop, don't fucking stop!” John ground out between his teeth, his words ending with another half moaned shout. He looked desperate, Eyes screwed shut, mouth open, his twitching fingers working frantically over his cock, shameless, wanton and debauched and Arthur couldn't get enough of seeing him like this. The hot clench of John's ass around his dick was spurring him on to go even harder, rocking the bed against the wall, not caring if the whole saloon heard them. He needed to hear and see John fall apart with his cock buried deep in inside his body.

 

Another hard thrusts had John writhe on the sheets, his muscles going taught and a second later he was shuddering through his orgasm, leaving white pearly stripes on his stomach and chest. He looked gorgeous like this, lost in his own lust, eyes heavy and half-lidded, his body sated and limber laid out for Arthur to take however he pleased. John was his alone in that moment and Arthur didn't hesitate to take what was his.

 

Ignoring the sticky wetness between their bellies Arthur let go of his legs and blanketed the younger man with his body. He was so close that he could taste the first tingles of his orgasm on his tongue. With quick and sharp thrusts he was pushing into the brunet and he could feel the hand on his ass claw into the skin, trying to keep him as deep as possible in his body. This was when Arthur realized what John wanted. He was not only allowing it, he wanted to feel Arthur come inside him, filling him and marking him.

 

His orgasm hit him like a freight train and he felt himself come inside the young outlaw in several hot spurts. The sharp pain of John sucking on and biting his neck and his fingernails digging deep into his skin was completely lost in the euphoric feeling that was coursing through his whole body. With John's legs still wrapped tight around him he rolled his hips slowly, riding out the aftershocks of his orgasm and feeling the velvety walls that surrounded him so perfectly squeeze the final drops out of him. It made him want to stay buried deep inside the dark haired man forever. With a content moan he pressed his face into the pillow below them and closed his eyes. He felt totally drained.

 

“We really need to leave.” John's strained sounding voice brought Arthur almost back from his drowsy state. The older outlaw could feel him struggled under the dead weight of his body, but he refused to move off him. He just didn't want to. Everything felt just too perfect and he wouldn't let an irritable and impertinent little shit like Marston destroy this wonderful an perfect moment.

 

“Dammit, Marston, give a man a minute to enjoy his afterglow,” Arthur mumbled against John's neck, trying to ignore the squirming and nudging of the smaller man under him. He hissed in pain and opened his eyes when he felt a hand grab his hair in a tight fist and lift his head of the pillow. John looked fucked out and annoyed at the same time, the red flush on his cheeks had still not vanished and Arthur wanted nothing more than to trace the red scars that stood out so vividly with his fingers.

 

“I really would, but I think somebody with a fucking golden star on his chest might not want us here. Move!” The dark haired outlaw tried again to wiggle out from underneath Arthur, casting a nervous glance towards the door as he heard the doorknob rattle.

 

Arthur blinked down at the younger. It was somehow understandable, he thought. Claiming the bed of a whore after throwing her out of her own room and fucking John so hard that half the population of Valentine knew what they were doing had maybe not been the best idea. It still brought a silly and idiotic grin to his lips, because it had been _him_ that made John holler and scream _his_ name and he leaned down to kiss the young man who only pushed him away with displeased sound and a hard kick against his calf.

 

“Morgan, get off me! You can touch, kiss and fuck me later some more, but we need to go now!” Another shove had Arthur grunt in discomfort as John tried to push the much broader man off him.

 

The loud bang at the door and an angry voice confirmed John's suspicion and Arthur looked up in alarm. They were definitely in trouble. The banging got louder as both man scrambled off the bed, putting on their clothes in a hurry and looking for a way to escape this predicament. The window was their only option if they didn't plan to shoot their way out of Valentine.

 

“You mean that? That I can kiss and touch you and you know?”Arthur asked after he had opened the window and scanned the porch in front of it for any lawman. It seemed that for once in his life he was lucky because the area was completely deserted.

  
“If you can keep us out of prison I'll happily let you fuck me again and I will also return the favor, but now move!” John shoved Arthur almost out of the window as he spoke, a panicked look on his eyes as he heard somebody ramming against the door.

 

The next minutes happened in a blur. Both men were sprinting along the porch and whistling for their horses, a woman screaming profanities, a blind dash through the pigs pen, angry shouts and the sound of a gunshot behind them, but they somehow made it. Their escape was a close one and both men didn't even think about looking back when they rode westwards, their hearts still beating fast in their chests, both of them giddy with excitement and with the knowledge that this had probably been the most idiotic thing they had done in a very long time.

 

When they reached the Dakota River Arthur watched John as he tried to clean up the mess he had left on the younger man's body. He could feel a grin tuck at his lips when saw the brunet's face screw up in disgust and heard him cuss up a storm, not entirely sure if it was due to the cold water or the drying stickiness between his legs.

 

The prospect of riding back to Clemens Point didn't appeal to him the slightest. There was this nice, pleasant and happy feeling in his chest, because right now he and John were nothing but two irresponsible and lucky men in the middle of nowhere. It was this fact that made him want to stay here, miles and miles away from their camp, far away from everything that came with Dutch and his grant plans and the robberies, the killings, the scheming and the dying that would be inevitable at one point. He wanted to be a reckless and impulsive idiot just a little while longer.

 

“Hey John,” Arthur approached the dark haired gunslinger who was standing knee deep in the freezing river water, shivering slightly and looking everything else than happy. “Have you ever been to Strawberry?” The grin on his lips got bigger when he saw the questioning look on John's face.

 

“They have a bathtub there. Pretty big beds too.” He beckoned the younger man closer, rubbing his warm hands over the cold skin of John's arms that were prickling with goosebumps. “And I think there is a balcony attached to the room, just in case we have to run again.”

 

The hand that grabbed his jacket and pulled him into a kiss was the only the answer he needed.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!  
> Any kind of feedback is welcome. 
> 
> Historical fun fact: The crime against nature thing in Louisiana is indeed real. The law was issued in 1805. It made oral and anal sex a crime and was abolished in 2012.


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